


Quantifiable

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Getting Together, M/M, Mersquid, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: "The ocean was very deep, very strange, and very cold. Ross sometimes wished he was deep, knew he was strange.  He could have done with some cold, right about then."Ross runs into someone at the beach. It goes from there.





	Quantifiable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrDrProfessorWecht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrDrProfessorWecht/gifts).



> Thank you, Marie, for beta-ing for me!

The ocean was very deep, very strange, and very cold.

Ross sometimes wished he was deep, knew he was strange. He could have done with some cold, right about then.

He sat on the edge of the beach in Australia, staring out into the waves, his feet in the surf.

So maybe he shouldn't have run with his tail between his legs back to his parent's house - it was a cowardly thing, to be sure, but... fuck it. Sometimes you need to see your parents and your parent’s dog and the things you grew up with. So he sat in the sand, his elbows on his knees, the water lapping at his toes, and he looked up at the sky, with the stars from his childhood twinkling down at him.

"You look pensive," said a voice next to Ross, and he jumped, jerking away from it, then falling down into the surf and getting soaked.

He was sputtering, flailing upright, then flopping onto his back, gasping for breath. There was a man sitting on the sand next to him, and he was a bit confused as to how he hadn't noticed the guy before, since they were sitting pretty close.

"Sorry," Ross said, "do I know you?"

The guy had an American accent, and he was wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt, visible even in the dimness of the beach. His bottom half seemed to be covered up in a sarong, which was an odd thing to see, but then again, it was the beach in December - you got some weirdos. 

"Nope," said the guy, and he held a hand out, helping Ross sit up, then shaking Ross's hand. "I'm Brian."

"Hi," said Ross, still dazed. "Ross."

"So what brings you to the beach at this time of night?"

"Oh, you know," said Ross. "Stuff."

"Real descriptive, Ross," said Brian. It was more familiar than Ross was used to, but then again, Australians were more blunt than Americans. Maybe he’d gone soft, amongst all the Americans for all those years. 

"I am a master of description, thank you very much," said Ross, and brushed some of the sand off of his shirt.

It was a good thing he'd left his phone in his bag way above the water line.

"Evidently," Brian said, his voice dry. 

"So what brings _you_ to the beach at this time of night," Ross countered.

He should have been telling this Brian dude to fuck off, but... well, whatever.

Who cared?

It had been a long day - he was still jet lagged, and he wanted nothing so much as to just crawl into a hole and sleep for a few days. 

"Oh, you know," said Brian. "The moon is full."

"That's not a reason to go to the beach," said Ross, just to be contrary. "You can admire the moon just as much from home."

"I live on the beach," said Brian.

"Oh," said Ross. "You're a recent immigrant?"

"I'm not an immigrant, as such," said Brian. "I move around a lot."

"Right," said Ross. "So why'd you decide to come talk to me?"

"You're the only person on the beach," said Brian, "and you looked lonely. I thought you might want some company." 

"That was awfully nice of you," said Ross.

Brian shrugged, and there was something oddly... boneless about the way he moved. 

"What can I say," Brian said. "I've always found people fascinating."

"Right," said Ross.

He was missing something - he had no idea _what_ he was missing, exactly, except that it had to be something, judging by the looks that Brian was shooting him.

... wait a minute.

"Is this a gay cruising spot?"

Ross kind of just... blurted it out.

He hadn't meant to say it quite that... bluntly, to be sure, but it just kind of popped out of his mouth.

Brian threw his head back, and he laughed.

It was an ugly, honking laugh, and Ross was endeared in spite of himself. 

"Not that I know of, no," said Brian. "It might be, though."

"So you're not a gay guy who's looking to... cruise with me?"

"Do you want to be cruised with?"

Brian's tone was one of polite inquiry, but Ross still flushed, his heartbeat loud in his ears, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

"I'm not gay," Ross said, which was true.

Not that he had a problem with people who _were_ gay!

He just... wasn't.

Was he interested in men was a different question, one which he didn't necessarily have an answer for, but, well....

"But do you want to be cruised with?"

The moonlight was bright enough to cast stark shadows, and Brian's face looked like a lino block print, all stark angles and harsh light. 

"I mean," Ross said, "my life has gone in some… unexpected directions. I don't know if I'm in a proper cruising mindset."

"What would count as a proper cruising mindset, in this case?"

Brian didn't seem to be actively flirting - he looked more like he was pursuing some deep truth, instead of trying to get his dick wet. 

"I feel like it'd be horny, honestly," said Ross. "Maybe, like, stupidly horny."

"And are you?"

"What, horny?"

"Yeah."

Ross shrugged.

Was he being trolled, or was he being hit on?

"I don't know if I want to be horny right now," he said. "I mean... if it happened, it'd happen, but I don't think that I want to actively pursue horny."

"That was downright philosophical," said Brian, and he looked faintly impressed.

"What can I say," Ross said. "I'm not just a pretty face."

"You do have a very pretty face," said Brian. 

Ross snorted.

"Are you trying to persuade me to pursue horny?"

Ross's tone was teasing.

"Nah," said Brian. "I'm just making an observation. Consider it a scientific observation."

"Does it count as a scientific observation, if it's not something quantifiable?"

"Pretty can be quantifiable," Brian fired back. "It's just a subjective sort of quantifiable."

"You can't call it quantifiable if it's subjective," said Ross.

"Quantifiable" no longer felt like a word anymore.

"Sure I can," said Brian. "It's a free country." 

That startled a laugh out of Ross.

It was such a frankly _stupid_ statement, and something about it just... got him right in the funny bone, got him so hard that he was cackling like a goddamn hyena, laughing up to the stars, as the water pulled the sand out from under his toes. 

Brian looked up at the sky, and Ross watched him sidelong, admiring the elegant line of Brian's profile - the Roman nose, the bushy eyebrows, the jut of his chin.

What would it be like, to pick up a guy at the beach, to fuck a guy he'd never met before?

It wasn't a thing that Ross had ever seen himself doing, but then again, he'd _also_ never seen himself running off to Australia after... dealing with unpleasantness. 

"I'm not the most well versed, when it comes to this kind of thing," said Brian. 

"If you're not so well versed, why are you offering it?" Then Ross frowned. "Wait. Was that a pun?"

"What kind of pun?"

Ross looked over at Brian, and saw that Brian's eyebrows were knitting together, a deep line forming between them.

"You know. There's tops, bottoms, and versatile. Also called verse. So... not well versed."

"Oh," said Brian, and then he made a sheepish sound. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't actually know that?"

"So you came here assuming it was a gay cruising spot -"

"I didn't assume it was a gay cruising spot," Brian said, and now he sounded close to indignant. "Weren't you the one who brought that up?"

"Did I?"

Ross made a face.

Brian snorted.

"You don't remember?"

"It's, like, two in the morning," Ross said, "and I'm tired."

"So why'd you come to the beach by yourself?"

"I couldn't sleep," said Ross.

"So you decided to come to the beach?"

"What's wrong with coming to the beach?"

"I dunno," said Brian. "I know how _my_ family deals with insomnia, and it's not shlepping out to the beach."

"The ocean is relaxing," Ross said. "How can I not enjoy it?"

"Some people think the ocean is scary," said Brian. 

"It might be scary," said Ross, "but most of the things in life are pretty scary, when you get down to it."

"What, really? That's awfully philosophical."

"It's two in the morning," Ross said. "Who isn't philosophical at this time of night?"

"I come from a place where people are... less inclined towards sleeping at this time of night," said Brian.

"What kinda place is that, exactly?"

"Oh, you know," Brian said. "So what do you do for fun?"

This was beginning to feel like a date.

Like the two of them had been set up by a friend of a friend, and now the two of them were sitting here awkwardly.

Ross wished he had a bottle of beer to fiddle with.

When had he gotten so awkward with people?

He used to be good at this - he used to be .

But who the fuck was he now? 

Some random loser.

He sighed, and he rested his elbows on his thighs, covering his face with both hands and taking a deep, sad sigh. 

"What's gotten in your gullet?"

"... what?"

Ross looked at Brian, frowning.

"Bothered. What's got you so bothered?"

Ross shrugged.

"Life is hard," he said, because going into the sordid details was just too... complicated.

"It usually is," agreed Brian. 

"What do you do?"

Was keeping a conversation up always this hard, or was Ross just particularly bad at it?

His family had mostly been leaving him alone, apart from vague offers of food or company - he was probably radiating anger and hurt, to say nothing of the shame. 

"Oh," said Brian. "You know, this and that."

He made a vague hand gesture, although what mean, Ross had no idea.

"This and that?"

"Yeah," said Brian. "What do _you_ do?"

"I _was_ an artist," Ross said. "I'm... I'm not so sure anymore."

"What happened to you, to make you stop being an artist?"

"What?"

Ross stared at Brian, his eyes wider than they needed to be.

"You know," said Brian. "You said you _were_ an artist. I'm just applying simple grammatical rules here."

"You happen to know a lot of grammar for a dude sitting around on a beach at two in the morning," said Ross.

The water lapped over their feet, pulling the sand out from under Ross's feet, leaving sucking holes.

Ross wriggled his toes. 

They were going to be all pruned up.

"I could say the same to you," Brian pointed out. "Neither of us can really throw any stones, in this glass house."

"It'd be a bad idea to build a glass house on the beach," said Ross. "Although glass is made of sand, so I guess if you had the right kind of forge, you could have endless glass."

"Endless glass," said Ross, his tone flat. "What I've always wanted."

Brian shrugged.

"There are worse endless things to have," said Brian. "Sometimes, in the ocean, it feels like it's nothing but endless water."

"In the ocean? You spend a lot of time at the bottom of the ocean?" 

"Not the bottom, no," said Brian.

"Do you work on a boat?"

Brian didn't _look_ like one of the leathery men who worked on the trawlers, but you never knew, really. 

Maybe he used good sunblock. 

"I work with the ocean," said Brian.

"Right," said Ross, because this felt like there was something deeper to this, that he didn't entirely understand. 

"I'd like to kiss you," said Brian. "If that's alright?"

"Why do you want to kiss me?"

"Because," said Brian, "we're sitting here on the beach, you're clearly nursing some kind of hurt, and the moon is beating down on us like something out of a song. You look tired and sad, I'm having my own complicated feelings that I want to deal with, and it sounds like it would help to kiss you."

"I can't argue with that," said Ross, although he'd never thought of himself as a guy who would kiss strangers on a beach.

But he turned his face towards Brian's, and he pressed his mouth against Brian's, because, as Brian said, the moon was full and his heart was empty. 

* * *

Ross woke up on the beach.

He didn't remember going to sleep - he didn't remember sleeping.

All he could remember was pressing his mouth against Brian's, and then he was waking up on the beach.

The moon had nearly gone down, and Ross yawned, rubbing his eyes.

It was dark now, and... fuck, hopefully nothing had happened to him.

He didn't _feel_ sore in any spots, or particularly like anything bad had happened. He was wearing all of his clothes, although they were now wet - the water had come up to his hips, and he had sand in places he probably didn't want it.

He hadn't been sleeping that long, at least. 

He made a face, standing up, his various bits still sore, his joints stiff.

Then he made his way back up, towards his stuff.

* * *

Ross didn't notice anything particularly strange until he got home and took a shower. 

When he was blearily standing under the water, scrubbing his chest, he finally noticed the weird marks.

They looked almost like... hickeys?

But perfectly round, and they went down his chest, to around his arm. 

When he angled himself properly in the mirror, he saw more of them.

... huh.

This was definitely weird, but he was tired, and it was too late for him to think too deeply into it. He was going to wash off all of the sand, and then he was going to stop worrying about it.

* * *

Ross woke up with a clearer head, still covered in weird, round bruises.

His parents were at the breakfast table, and his mother had a newspaper in front of her.

"Hi, honey," she said. "You sleep well?"

"I had a bit of insomnia," Ross said. "Went for a walk on the beach."

"Be careful," said Ross's father from the stove, where he was scrambling eggs. "You don't want to end up like that one Prime Minister, do you?"

"I didn't go swimming," Ross said. "Anyway, if I was going to disappear on the beach, I'd do something more flashy than just leave a pile of empty clothes."

Ross's mother snorted.

"Be careful, going to the beach," Ross's mother said. "You're not going to believe this, but they spotted a _giant squid_."

"A giant squid," Ross said.

"Yeah," said his mother. "Late last night. They had no idea how it got there or where it went, but at some point last night, there was a giant squid."

"... huh," said Ross, because he wasn't sure what else to say.

"You gonna do anything in particular today?" 

"I was thinking I'd go into town, wander about a bit," said Ross. "Maybe catch up with some folks."

"Sounds like a good plan," said Ross's mother, and she smiled at him.

There was something a little bit sad in her face, but she wasn't pushing it.

He was eternally grateful.

Then his father was putting a plate of eggs in front of him, and he sighed, picking up his fork.

"So... do you know how much longer you want to be staying here? Not that we don't like having you here, but it helps to have... a timeline."

"Is me being here a problem?"

Guilt seized in Ross's stomach, twisting like a worm on a hook.

"No, no," said Ross's mother, and she covered Ross's hand with her own, squeezing it. "We're glad you're here. We're glad to see you. But I also know that you've got a life of your own, back in America. I don't want you to feel like you have to... hide here, for however long you might feel it."

"You're always welcome," Ross's mother added. 

“Thank you,” said Ross, and he sighed, trying not to show just how… anxious he was. 

He’d go back to LA soon.

He would. 

* * *

Ross went back to the beach that night.

He probably shouldn’t have - going to the beach late at night was a bad idea, but going to the beach late at night multiple nights in a row was probably worse.

He couldn’t help it - there was just something about the way that everyone was looking at him, like they expected him to burst out crying, or possibly lose his temper.

… he was, admittedly, getting pretty close to losing his temper, but it was only because people _expected_ him to.

Although that was kind of dumb, wasn’t it?

He found Brian there again, feet in the surf.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here again,” said Brian. 

“Aren’t you worried about the giant squid they saw here the other night?”

Ross tried to sound mellow, as if is his heart hadn’t sped up a little bit in his chest, as if he wasn’t some mix of anxious and excited to see Brian again.

“No,” said Brian. 

It was a blunt answer, but Ross was still somewhat surprised.

The round bruises were still there.

“Why not? Aren’t you afraid of getting eaten?”

“No giant squid would ever eat me,” said Brian. 

“Why not?”

“What are you doing in Australia, anyway?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t sound Australian,” said Ross.

“Well, neither do you,” said Brian.

"I was from Australia," said Ross. "Give me a few more months here, and I'll be back to my old accent."

"You said you _were_ from Australia," said Brian. "Are you not anymore."

Ross shrugged, and tried not to look as hopeless as he felt. Well... did he feel hopeless? 

He didn't even know.

"So you've come back to Australia to get your accent back?" Brian's tone was almost... teasing.

"Something like that, yeah," said Ross, and he looked sidelong at Brian, and licked his lips. "I'd like to kiss you again."

Did he want to kiss Brian, or did he just want to shock himself out of this crushing... _numbness_?

That was part of it, wasn't it?

He'd run away here to escape his problems, and they _were_ far away, all the way in the US, but at the same time, he was still carrying some of them around in his head, heavy in his chest.

His head was pounding, and anxiety was prickling up his back, like some kind of great snake. He turned towards Brian, and was aware, in a distant sort of way, that Brian's eyes caught the light and reflected it back. 

_Human eyes shouldn't be able to do that,_ thought Ross, and then he pushed it firmly out of his mind and leaned in, kissing Brian.

Brian made a startled noise, but he opened his mouth and let Ross kiss him, his hands going to Ross's shoulders and squeezing.

They were big hands.

Brian's face was bristly, and his mouth tasted like salt. His skin was faintly dry, almost chapped, as if he'd been out on the water all day. His hands weren't calloused, though. They were soft, as they came up to cup Ross's face, his thumbs against Ross's cheekbones.

Ross sighed into the kiss, and he ran his fingers through Brian's hair. 

It was stiff with salt water. 

Had Brian been swimming?

Brian pulled back, and he looked Ross in the face, his eyes very wide, but very bright. The moon was still full and round, hanging in the sky like a silver dollar. 

"So are we going to have the cruising conversation again?" Ross's voice was rough.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," said Brian, "but I feel like cruising is less about seeking out an individual, more about finding a convenient place to put your dick." 

"When you put it like that, it makes it sound like I just want a pocket to put it in," Ross said. "Anyway, I think that cruising culture is more complicated than that."

"Do you?"

"I think it's a lot more quantifiable," said Ross, and then he kissed Brian again, because he was out of words, and it was easier to just kiss.

It had been a while since he'd kissed anyone - there was something soothing, about losing himself in the press of skin on skin, and the push and pull of their lips against each other. 

Ross sighed, and he pulled back, breathing Brian's breath.

It... smelled like fish.

Oh well.

Ross was making out with a random guy that he'd met on a beach. 

How about that?

"I've never... with a guy before," said Ross, and he cleared his throat, his whole face turning dark red. It probably looked black in the moonlight. 

"You've never _what_ with a guy, exactly?" Brian raised an eyebrow.

Ross cleared his throat. "Well," he said, "if I'm reading this situation correctly, can I... surmise that you're interested in some kind of... something?"

"Be a little more straightforward, why don't you?" Brian's hand moved from Ross's shoulder down Ross's arm, to Ross's hand. He interlinked their fingers.

Ross squeezed them.

Brian squeezed back.

"I really want to do... something. I don't know. Do you want me to suck your dick or something?"

Ross was floundering. It had been... a while since he'd done anything sexual. Let alone anything sexual with anyone who he hadn't known for who knew how many years.

"How about I suck your dick?" Brian's tone was mild. "Would you like that?"

"I'm, uh... I'm not gonna say no," Ross said. His mouth was very dry.

"Are you sure? You look terrified."

"How can you tell, as dark as it is?" That was an utter lie. The moon was like a spotlight on the both of them.

"I've got good night vision," said Brian. "So do you want a blowjob?"

"I'm not saying no," Ross said, although his voice was shaking more than he would like it to. 

"But you're not saying yes, either," said Brian. 

"I've never gotten a blow job from a dude before," said Ross. 

Brian pressed closer, until his hip was flush against Ross's, and then he was kissing Ross again, with his whole mouth, his tongue inside of Ross's, and Ross sighed, as he let himself be pushed back onto the sand. It was soft against him, compacting around him, holding him in place.

Brian was crawling on top of Ross now, and his hands were in Ross's hair, and he was grinding his hips forward, his cock hard against Ross's thigh, and _oh_ , that was something, wasn't it?

Ross was experiencing everything from a long way off, but not necessarily in a long way.

God, when was the last time he'd had another person pressed up against him like this? When was the last time he'd kissed someone? 

He clutched Brian closer to him, his hands going down the backs of Brian's denim shorts, to find... that Brian wasn't wearing any underwear. 

Ross pulled back, looking up at Brian.

Brian's face was alternately bright and dark, the light reflecting weirdly on his craggy features. 

"I'm not an ordinary dude," said Brian. 

Ross blinked up at him, his brain still going at half a million miles an hour. "What?"

"I'm not an ordinary dude," Brian repeated. 

"Oh," said Ross. "Um." 

Brian looked down at Ross, his eyes luminous, the blue visible even in the dimness. His expression was hard to read, and Ross's heart was in his throat.

"Do it," Ross said, his voice thick. "Please."

"Do what, specifically?"

"Blow me," said Ross, then, "wait, no, that came out wrong."

Brian made some kind of amused noise, and he leaned forward, blowing warm air onto Ross's face.

Ross wrinkled his nose, but he was grinning a bit in spite of himself. "You're such a weirdo," he told Brian.

Brian snorted. "You said it, not me," he told Ross.

"A thousand pardons," Ross said, his voice flat. "Would you be so kind as to apply your mouth to my penis?"

"When you put it like that, you make it sound like you want me to eat your dick," said Brian, and he kissed along Ross's neck. 

There was a bit pinch, and Ross was reminded of nothing so much as being nipped by a bird, but that couldn't be right, because humans didn't have beaks. Then the softness of Brian's lips against the side of his neck, and he sighed, going boneless into the sand, which was wrapping around him like shrink wrap, which wa singularly odd experience, except it wasn't at the same time.

All of this felt like it had happened before, some time ago, and he was just experiencing it again, as if everything was just happening again.

"... am I high?" He would have remembered if he'd gotten high, wouldn't he? That wasn't something you just forgot. Although with the way his brain had been going lately, who the fuck knew?

"Not that I know of," said Brian.

Ross looked along the beach, as Brian moved lower, shoving his shirt up and kissing along his chest, his hands delicate on Ross's ribs, almost delicate enough to tickle. They were alone - completely alone. He couldn't see anyone for miles.

Admittedly, if they got caught, he'd be known for it for the rest of his life, but... fuck it.

He needed this.

He needed _something_ , to break himself out of the dull monotony of whatever his life had been lately, where he didn't so much live as exist.

"Is this like a midlife crisis?" Ross's voice was quiet, but Brian still looked up, his lips still pressed against Ross's collarbone.

"I don't know," said Brian. "Are you in the middle of your life?"

"Maybe a quarter life crisis," Ross amended. 

Brian shrugged.

"I forget how long you folks live," Brian said, and that was a weird thing to say, but then his hand was going between Ross's legs, squeezing Ross's cock through the thin fabric of Ross's bathing suit.

Ross bucked his hips forward, throwing his head back and letting his mouth fall back. He was being squeezed, and that was... oh, that was sweet. That was good.

He ground his hips forward, his mouth falling open, and he put a cautious hand on the back of Brian's head, threading his fingers through Brains' hair and tugging on it.

Brian moaned, and he kissed again, a little lower, right over Ross's navel.

The muscles in Ross's stomach jumped, and Brian made an amused noise, and did it again. "Are you ticklish?"

"Please don't tickle me," Ross said, and maybe he sounded particularly pathetic, because Brian looked up at him, one eyebrow up. "I flail when I'm tickled," Ross said. "I don't want to accidentally, like, hit you in the face with my knee."

"Right," said Brian. "That makes sense. Wouldn't want that." He squeezed Ross's cock again, his palm curving along the shaft, his thumb pressing against the head.

"I do that sometimes," Ross said, and his voice cracked. 

"Good to know," said Brian, and then he was pushing down the waistband of Ross's bathing suit, and Ross's cock was springing forward, hitting against his belly. He was leaking pre-come down the shaft, to drool down onto the hair right under his navel, and it was all a mess - a mess of stickiness, of wetness, and when had that happened?

Ross hadn't realized he was this turned on. His skin was oversensitive, and his toes were curling in the sand, which still somehow had the heat of the sun on it, which was strange, when had the sun gone down? Was he being warmed up by the light of the moon?

No, that made no sense, the moon didn't cause heat.

Ross's brain was going in half a million directions at once, wasn't it?

How about that?

And then there was a mouth on the tip of his cock, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he held on to Brian's hair, because _fuck_.

Ross's hips rolled forward in spite of himself, because oh _fuck_ , that was... that was good. Brian's tongue was strangely rough against the head of his cock, along the underside, but that didn't matter, none of that mattered, it was just hot and wet, the pleasure building up in his gut like a wave, and it was making him squirm, his hips jerking forward.

Then Brian's hands were on his hips, keeping him in place, and he whined in the back of his throat, too far gone to even be that embarrassed about it. 

When was the last time he'd been touched with _intent_? When was the last time he'd been held like this? When was the last time he'd felt someone else's... well, anything on his cock?

Since before he'd left the US, since before he'd had his nervous breakdown, since before all of the business with... well, everything had happened. He let himself get lost in the sensations - in the sand shifting under him, in the wetness around his cock, in the beating of the waves against the shore. His heart was beating in time with the surf, or maybe he was imagining things, and it was all just one big hallucination. The moon beat down on him, bright behind his eyes. 

He shuddered, his head thrown back as Brian swallowed down his cock, and some distant, tinny part of his brain informed him that he'd need to wash his hair when all of this was done.

He told that part of his brain to stow it.

Then Brian was doing... something, and his throat was squeezing around Ross's, and Ross was gasping up to the sky, up to the moon. He looked down the length of his body, to see... what the _fuck_?

Ross stared, wide eyed, at the thing that was pressed against his body, because suddenly it was some kind of beast - some great beast, all tentacles and great, luminous eyes, and there were suckers pressing delicately into Ross's legs, squeezing Ross's thighs, and Ross was shaking, his hands still on Brian's head, which somehow managed to feel like the normal curve of a human skull with the softness of hair, while _also_ leathery and squishy, like the mantle of a squid.

Ross shuddered, and his cock twitched in whatever hot, wet cavern it was being held in, and then something passed over it, and he didn't have a choice in the matter; he was coming, and then it was Brian's mouth around him - teeth against his shaft, a throat squeezing around him, a tongue still tracing along his shaft, under the head of his cock.

Maybe the thing that Ross had seen had all been in his imagination - he was probably just going crazy. 

That would make sense.

"Sorry about that," said Brian, although it wasn't entirely obvious what it was that Brain was apologizing _for_.

Ross tugged Brian up by the shoulders of his Hawaiian shirt, and he kissed Brian on the mouth, tasting his own come, his own desperation. 

There might have been sadness mixed in there, but what was the difference between the salt of tears and the salt of come, at the end of the day?

Or the salt of the ocean.

Brian looked at Ross, his face all brightness and shadow, and Ross's mouth worked before his brain did.

"Are you a giant squid?"

... what the fuck. Who the fuck said something like that, right after a blowjob? Let alone a blowjob on the beach, by a guy who he barely knew? 

Ross had gotten a blowjob from someone, and he didn't even know their last name. Wow. He wasn't sure if this was a thing to feel accomplished about, or ashamed.

"Not a squid, no," said Brian. 

There was something about his tone that Ross couldn't entirely place, but... well, Ross couldn't place it. 

"Can we go back you your place? I'll... I'll suck you off, or give you a handjob if you'd like?"

"Are you asking to go to my place, or are you offering to suck me off or give me a handjob?" Brian quirked an eyebrow. 

"Both?" 

"This is a one or the other type of deal," said Brian. 

Ross was giddy from his orgasm, tired to his bones, and willing to accept anything, but simultaneously not willing to _put up_ with anything. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if we go to my place, it'll be hard for you to give me a handjob," said Brian.

"But not a blowjob, I notice," said Ross.

"It's... complicated," said Brian.

"Do you not have a dick? Because I can work with no dick."

"That's... not a thing you just _ask_ someone," said Brian, and he sounded faintly affronted.

"What could be such a big deal?" Ross crossed his arms across his chest, giving Brian a Look.

"... come back tomorrow night," said Brian. "Same time. And if you _really_ want to know... well, I'll be here." 

"So you don't want a blowjob? Because I have no gag reflex."

Brian raised an eyebrow. 

"I mean it," said Ross, and he shoved two fingers down the back of his throat, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

No gagging. 

"... oh," said Brian. Even in the moonlight, Ross could tell that he was blushing.

"So yeah," said Ross, and his hand went to Brian's thigh it seemed that his limbs were a lot more confident than the rest of him was. 

Oh well. Something had to be, right?

"Yeah?" Brian looked down at Ross's hand, then up into Ross's face.

"Yeah," said Ross. "Do you want me to blow you?"

"Yes. Yes, in fact, I do," said Brian. 

Ross kissed Brian, and his hand moved up, joined by his other hand. He unbuttoned Brian's shirt, and he stroked across Brian's hairy chest, tugging gently on Brian's chest hair (it was weird to do this without any boobs), then cupping one pectoral clumsily, his thumb against Brian's nipple.

Brian shifted against him, and he moaned into Ross's mouth, his hips shifting, just a bit.

"Y'like that?" Ross murmured against Brian's mouth.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't let you do it," Brian said. 

Ross rolled his eyes, and he pinched Brian's nipple, then kissed lower, along Brian's jaw.

It was stubbly. 

Brian sighed, relaxing into it, and Ross tried to avoid any sand. Brian's skin tasted like salt, like skin, and Brian's pulse thundered under Ross's tongue. Brian moaned when Ross began to suck, and kept moaning, as Ross bit down.

Ross's hands moved lower, and then be broke the kiss, to sit between Brian's legs, pushing the waistband of Brian's bathing suit down. "I've never, uh, done this before," he said thickly.

"What, never blown a guy you'd met on the beach?" Brian's voice was as dry as the ocean was wet.

Ross rolled his eyes. "No," he told Brian. "I've just never... you know, given a blow job." 

"It's not hard," said Brian. "You put your mouth on it, you suck, you move your head. It's pretty hard to fuck up."

"I'm a pretty spectacular fuck up," Ross said, and his voice was flat.

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Would this attitude have anything to do with the reason you're going to beaches at ungodly hours?"

"Something like that, yeah," said Ross, and then he was shoving the waistband all the way down, and he was looking down.

Okay.

That... sure was a penis.

It was a perfectly normal looking penis - Ross had seen them before, in one situation or another, and he wrapped his hand around it, squeezing, his thumb against the slit on the head, spreading wetness all along the shaft.

Brain moaned, and his hips rolled forward, fucking into Ross's fist. "You're not bad," he told Ross, his fingers digging into his own thighs.

"You sure do know how to make a guy feel special," Ross said, his voice deadpan. "Not bad, huh?"

Brian snorted.

Ross leaned down, the angle awkward, and he wrapped his lips around the head of Brian's cock, sucking on it hard enough that his cheeks hollowed out. He swiped along the tip with the flat of his tongue, and he tasted Brian's pre-come.

It tasted like salt, and it was gooey. 

Eh. 

He didn't love it, didn't hate it. Good to know.

He shifted, and he took Brian's cock deeper into his mouth - until it was at the very back of his throat, and he was swallowing around it, his throat making wet noises.

"I... didn't believe you when you s-s-said you had no gag reflex," Brian mumbled, and his hand was in Ross's hair, his hips jerking forward, hard enough that Ross's nose was pressed into his groin. "Guess... guess I was wrong." 

Ross snorted, a puff of hot air against Brian's belly, and Brian shuddered, his head falling back. 

"Fuck, Ross," Brian murmured.

Ross made an agreeable noise, skittering the tip of his tongue along the underside of Brian's cock, pausing to press down on the frenulum, then moved his head back, until he only had the head of Brian's cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue along the head. He took it back down again, as he drooled down his chin, puddling into Brian's bathing suit. His hands were on Brian's inner thighs, and Brian was shivering, every muscle taut.

There was something nearly meditative about this - the moon shining down on them like some kind of perverse spotlight, the ocean beating away at the shore, Ross's own heart beating in his ears, Brian's pulse against his tongue.

Ross sucked and slurped, letting himself get lost in the whole messy business of it. There was a simple joy to this, to giving pleasure, to losing oneself in someone else's body.

There was a simple joy in finding that a body worked, and that you could make it do things.

Brian's scent was getting stronger - it was getting deeper, like salt, like the low tide, almost. Some kind of scent that was older than civilization, only that couldn't be right.

Maybe Ross was just getting loopy from not enough oxygen, or maybe he was still recovering from the goddamn nervous breakdown, and prone to flights of fancy.

And then Brian's hands were on Ross's head, keeping Ross in place, and Ross's face was being fucked - full on fucked, his nose mashing against Brian's belly. 

It was... it was a lot, and Ross let himself get lost in it, let himself feel it, and then things were happening, some kind of _something_ was happening, and Ross was being held by a whole mass of tentacles, he was being clutched with suckers, and there was a tentacle in his mouth, he was sucking on something that flexed and wriggled in his mouth.

And then it was a dick again, framed by white thighs, and Brian was crying out, his back arching. 

Brian came in Ross's mouth, pulsing and twitching. Ross, lacking anything else to do with it, swallowed. It was salty and bitter, and he wasn't exactly fond of how slimy it was, but he could live with it.

When Ross came up for air, he was kissed, kissed within an inch of his life, and he kissed Brian back, sharing the taste of Brian's come, trying to shove some of his own feelings - whatever they were - into Brian's mouth.

Brian seemed to take them, and he held Ross against his chest, flopping back onto the sand. 

They were quiet, staring at the sky together, and then Ross spoke. "I ran away," he said quietly.

"Did you?"

Brian's hand was in Ross's hair, and was stroking it back, his blunt fingers surprisingly gentle. "Did you? From what?"

"I... I was doing so many things. So, so many things. I had to do so many things, I had to keep up appearances, I had to make sure that everything was going the way it was supposed to. And the world is... well. You know what's happening."

Brian nodded.

"The world is going to shit, and I realized that it was taking me three hours to even get out of bed in the morning, and I was so tired, and one day I was staring at my tablet and realized I didn't have any art in my head. No ideas, no busywork, nothing." There were tears dripping down Ross's face. 

How about that. 

"And then," Ross continued, in a choked off voice, and he cleared his throat, "and then I just... I looked out my window, at all the smoke, because California is on fire, and I just said "enough," and I bought a ticket to come here. And now I need to go back, but... I can't. But I can't stay here anymore either - I know it hurts my parents to see me like this. I just... I don't know." 

Ross sighed, and he wiped his face, his fingers coming back wet with tears and drool.

"Come back tomorrow night," Brian said, his voice gentle. It rumbled through his chest, and it vibrated across Ross's skin. 

"Why tomorrow night?" 

"I have some things I need to do."

"Right."

Ross sighed, and he cuddled in, because when was the last time he'd been held like this?

He yawned, and his eyes began to droop. He could hear the familiar thud-thud-thud of Brian's heartbeat, and it was enough to make him finally - _finally_ \- relax, down into his bones.

* * *

Ross woke up alone on the beach again, the sun beginning to come up again. 

His mouth still tasted like salt, and his head hurt, just a bit.

"Right," he said to the empty beach, and then he stood up, carefully. 

He had more of those odd bruises on his arms and legs, and he was beginning to get... well, call it a suspicion. 

Hmm. 

* * *

Ross came home, to find his parents both sleeping in. He was endlessly grateful - he didn't want to explain... whatever he'd been up to. He took a shower, and sure enough, yes, there were more odd sucker shaped bruises on his torso, his arms, his legs.

He looked... well.

"I'm thinking of going out of town for a few days," Ross said, keeping his tone casual. "Because... well, I think I might need a bit of a change of scenery."

"Of course," said his father. "Do you need to borrow the car?"

"No," said Ross. "I should be okay. But if I'm gone, don't worry, okay? I'll come back. I promise."

"I know you will," said his mother, and she leaned down, kissing him on the forehead.

He hugged her tightly, and his dad too. 

Something was going to happen - he didn't know what it was yet, but it was going to.

* * *

Ross sat on the beach when the sun started to go down, and he stayed there, watching the water, occasionally sketching. He kept his feet buried in the sand, and he shivered, as the sun went down. He ate a tuna fish sandwich, and he rested his elbows on his thighs, staring out at the water.

There was something hypnotic about it - the pull and the push, the whiteness of the foam on top of the darkness of the water. There were things in the water, things that were older than humanity.

And maybe Ross's weird... hunch was wrong. Maybe he'd just read too many fairy tales at a formative age.

Maybe Brian was just a middle aged guy who lived in some cottage down the way, or off in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe this would all be normal. 

* * *

It wasn't normal. 

When the moon was high, Brian came walking along the beach. 

He walked kinda funny, come to think of it - Ross hadn’t ever seen him in motion, on two legs before, but something about his stance suggested… wobbling. 

Ross stood up, and he walked towards Brian, meeting him halfway. 

The moon was casting shadows, and when Ross looked down, he could see that the shape of them was… odd.

Brian's shadow wasn’t right.

It was very much not right. 

Ross didn’t look at it too hard - he looked at Brian, and then he made his mind up.

“So… are you ready?” Brian sounded nervous for the first time.

“Let’s do it,” said Ross.

Turned toward the surf, and he held his hand out. For a second, it wasn’t a hand, but the end of a tentacle.

Ross took it, and he squeezed, turning towards the surf himself.

He didn’t know what it was that he was expecting, but… well, it would at least be something quantifiable, right? 

He trusted Brian.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays! Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
